


What Goodbyes Are For

by Emporianne



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Gen, semi-rare instance of angst without plot, uhhh kinda canon divergence??, which i guess would usually be called character introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 20:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emporianne/pseuds/Emporianne
Summary: There weren’t many things Ratchet liked to admit. Among the top of that list was the notion that maybe, just maybe, he should probably see another medical professional.In this case, Rung.Because Ratchet knew, logically and scientifically, that ghosts did not exist. However, he could almost be convinced that one was haunting him now.





	What Goodbyes Are For

Ratchet should’ve been in his hab suite by now.  The process of sanitizing and putting the med bay on stand-by for the night was one he’d long since honed and mastered. Ever since Delphi though, he’d been dragging the ordeal out for at least double the time he usually took.

Normally he’d blame it on the introspection - it was a justified, expected reaction to life-altering events. Recently though, he was beginning to have second thoughts. There weren’t many things Ratchet liked to admit. Among the top of that list was the notion that maybe, just maybe, he should probably see another medical professional.

In this case, Rung.

Because Ratchet knew, logically and scientifically, that ghosts did not exist. However, he could _almost_ be convinced that one was haunting him now.

Cleaning cloth in hand, he scrubbed the medical slab in slow, meticulous circles. His gaze was transfixed on the smooth movements of his hand. Every minute detail of it vied for his attention. The fingers were a few millimeters slimmer than his, the joints a touch sharper, and the inner edges were still speckled with blue where the spray paint hadn’t quite reached. It crowded his thoughts, all but demanding that he remember. Remember-

Ratchet looked up. His hand stilled.

Pharma looked back at him.

Or was it, dare he say, a ghost? A vengeful projection of some memory he’d royally screwed up compartmentalizing? Or maybe some karmic hallucination imprinted forever in his processor from the trauma of watching his once-friend crash and burn in more ways than one? It was at times like these that he wished he weren’t an atheist if only so he could pester Primus with some prayers for answers. Instead, he tagged the moment in his memory banks and scheduled a reminder to make an appointment with Rung the first chance he got.

“Great use you’re making of my hands,” Pharma drawled in a voice that dripped disdain as he rested his chin on his interwoven fingers. Point one for hallucination, unless the Afterspark made a habit of giving back limbs lost in life.

Ratchet didn’t answer - don’t acknowledge, don’t encourage. He turned his attention back to cleaning, picking up the pace of his scrubbing this time.

“Stealing my hands and now ignoring me? I’m surprised, Ratchet! I thought passive-aggressive pettiness was more my thing. It certainly seemed to be what annoyed you most about me.”

“Believe me, it was plenty more than that,” Ratchet scoffed without looking up.

“A-ha!” Pharma slapped his hand down in triumph. “Couldn’t resist the banter, could you?”

“Hmph…”

Delighted sneer still on his lips, Pharma leaned forward again, bending over the medical slab. He forced himself into Ratchet’s line of sight as he had always been wont to do.

“Do you miss me?” He asked, tone expectant and scornful and oddly soft. “Did you ever?”

It was familiar. Ratchet recognized it as the tone that often preluded their past spats. It was the one Pharma used when he knew exactly what answer he wanted but knew he wouldn’t get. Yet, like now, he had always asked anyway.

Ratchet pointedly worked around Pharma, taking care not to touch him. He wasn’t sure what’d be worse - touching him and feeling solid metal, passing right through, or feeling some not-quite-tangible presence.

“ **I** missed you. When I was at Delphi. You should’ve come with me.”

“I was being redeployed elsewhere.”

“You could’ve said no,” He persisted. “You could’ve stopped me. At Delphi, maybe before. Not like I really wanted to be there.”

Ratchet fixed him with a withering look. “You made your own choice.”  
  
“I might not have. Remember? I valued your opinion enough to ask for it and you couldn’t even be bothered to answer,” he sighed with over-dramatized hurt.

“It wasn’t my responsibility to decide for you.”

Pharma’s expression flickered. The slightly unhinged glimmer in his optics that had haunted Ratchet since Delphi was replaced by a critical gaze. He could almost feel the metaphysical dissection Pharma was performing and refused to balk under it.  
  
Silence.

“You never said goodbye.”

To that, Ratchet didn’t have an answer he was confident enough in to say out loud.

**Author's Note:**

> Not really a ghost as we know Pharma isn't dead but I haven't really decided what he is in this lol
> 
> I do kinda an inkling of a plan to make it a three-parter with another instance after Luna 1 and another set during or after the finale of LL with Pharma's actual ghost but no guarantees I'll actually go through with it. And this works as a one-shot anyway so I'm marking this as complete.
> 
> Anyhow! First time posting on ao3 and this has only been semi-proofread so critique is appreciated.


End file.
